


'Til Death, or The Alternate History of the Old Mill Investigation

by Deifire



Series: Eerie: Ten Years Later [11]
Category: Eerie Indiana
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Syndi's Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 11:46:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11782479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deifire/pseuds/Deifire
Summary: Ten plus a few years post-series. In which Syndi's getting married, Marshall's getting drunk, and Dash is attempting small talk. Which somehow leads to the revelation that not everyone has the same interpretation of certain past events.





	'Til Death, or The Alternate History of the Old Mill Investigation

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written 2/16/16 for Dash and Marshall's sort-of anniversary. 
> 
> So I noticed the calendar in the bank in the background of "Hole in the Head Gang" is set to 2/16/92, meaning that February 16 might be the anniversary of the trio's first meeting if that could be taken as in any way canonically accurate. Alas, it cannot, because that day was a Sunday, meaning the bank wouldn't have been open.

The bride was beautiful, looking graceful despite wearing a dress with so many layers her brother was wondering how she managed to move in it at all. The groom was staring at her like she was the most precious thing in the world, and somehow managing not to trip over the multilayered skirt of the world's largest white dress as he led her around the floor. Off to the side, the bride's parents watched the happy couple, her mother fighting back tears, her father having long since given up the fight.

The tastefully concealed wards around the reception hall were holding, and aside from one minor incident involving the cake topper purchased from the World O' Stuff and a more mundane, but ultimately equally minor incident involving everyone forgetting to keep Aunt Norma away from the open bar, the whole event had so far gone off with only the hitch that was actually supposed to take place.

It was thanks to said open bar that Marshall Teller, little brother of the bride, had finally allowed himself to relax at what he would someday realize would turn out to be the last Teller family wedding he would ever attend.

Despite his other constant worry.

Said worry was currently sitting next to him, clad in a neatly pressed black suit, sprawled out across three chairs, and drinking straight from what appeared to be an entire bottle of scotch.

Marshall considered saying something about that, but realized the fact that Dash X had mostly behaved himself up until this point was probably nothing short of a minor miracle, and decided to let it go.

Instead he watched Simon attempting to dance with one of the bridesmaids, Syndi's friend Claudia from college. She was actually the third of Syndi's friends who had pulled Marshall aside at some point earlier in the festivities to ask him if the cute redhead really used to be little Simon Holmes, and to make sure he or she had done the math correctly and said cute redhead was now well over the age of majority. Marshall was not going to be at all surprised if his trusted associate didn't actually make it home tonight.

He glanced back over at Dash, who raised the bottle and grinned at him. Marshall raised his own glass in return.

"You owe me forever for this," Dash said. "Between the small talk and watching your extended family and Mr. Radford attempt the Electric Slide, I may never fully recover from this traumatic experience."

"Yes, I'm sure the small talk is especially traumatic," Marshall said, and took another drink.

"It is, actually," Dash said. "Every time I turn around, yours or somebody's aunt or cousin or something keeps asking me how I know the bride and groom, and then they all want to know how I met you."

Marshall must have look worried at that, because Dash laughed and said, "I tell them we met when we were kids, not too long after we both moved to Eerie."

Marshall blinked. "Wow," he said. "That has the added bonus of being pretty much true."

"Don't worry. I don't tell them anything about how we actually met," Dash said. "I figure there's no need for Great-Grandma Teller to find out about your teenage criminal history."

"Thank you for that," Marshall said. "Wait... _my_ teenage criminal history?"

Dash shrugged. "Well, yeah."

"I don't think almost being forced to rob a bank against my will counts," said Marshall.

"I'm not even talking about that," said Dash. "I'm talking about how our first meeting happened entirely due to you and your sidekick's breaking and entering spree."

Marshall took another drink. "Excuse me? Our what?"

"You and Simon. Broke into my house. Twice," Dash explained slowly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Um, if by house you mean the condemned old mill where you were squatting pretending to be a ghost, I suppose that’s one way to look at it," Marshall conceded. He went to take another drink and realized his glass was empty. 

"One way to look at it?" Dash asked, passing Marshall the bottle. "I remember that day very well, actually. I was at home alone minding my own business, when suddenly trouble and his associate waltzed in with a Polaroid."

Marshall choked on and almost spit out a mouthful of scotch at that one. "Are you saying _I_ was trouble? Because that’s not how I remember it at all."

"Oh, really? Because the way I remember it is that for three months I'd managed to lay low in Weirdsville and then you show up and the next thing I know, I've got an insane bank robbing ghost to deal with."

"I'm not the one who decided to crash in a haunted mill. So how does any of that make me trouble?"

"All my instincts were telling me to get the fuck out of Dodge and not look back," Dash continued, "but you’d brought along this poor kid who just wanted to collect baseball cards or something, but who for some reason not only followed you into the haunted house instead, but was also ready to die to save you from the inevitable consequences of your obsession with the paranormal."

"Stamps," Marshall said. He took another drink, beginning to suspect there was not enough alcohol in the entire reception hall, or indeed the entire world, to get him through this conversation. "It was stamp collecting Simon wanted to start that year. I remember because when he actually tried it...well, let's just say when you're in Eerie, philately has a few hidden risks and leave it at that."

"Whatever," said Dash. "The point is, I felt for the kid and got involved against my better judgment. Despite the fact that you scared the hell out of me." 

He reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out another nearly full bottle.

"Holy corn, Dash! What, were you planning on walking out of here with the entire bar?" 

"Your sister said all booze was free until the end of the reception," Dash pointed out.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean you can just—" Marshall began to explain, and then realized it was probably a lost cause. "Never mind. And as grateful as I am that you didn't leave us to die that day, you could have walked away at any point after that."

"Oh, believe me, I tried," said Dash. "But it turns out it's a smaller town than you'd think, and whenever I turned around, there you were. You couldn’t seem to leave me alone."

Marshall rolled his eyes. "That is almost the exact opposite of what actually happened. I'm also finding it really hard to believe that I ever scared you."

Dash shrugged. "Terrified me, actually. As far as I can remember, I had a very short but uneventful life before you came along. After that, I was somehow as caught up in your epic struggle against the forces of weirdness as poor Simon, facing the prospect of my own untimely demise on at least a weekly basis. At some point along the way, I even started to be okay with it. Face it, you're a dangerous person to know, Marshall Teller." 

Marshall laughed. "Yeah, _I_ was the terrifying one. _I_ threatened _you_ and put _your_ life in danger all the time back then."

Dash nodded. "Still do. Or do you not realize I've risked my life saving yours at least eleven times?"

"I—" Marshall interrupted.

"This year alone," Dash finished. 

Marshall thought back over the past year. There was the case with the poltergeist, true. And the one with the mad scientist. And the one with the other mad scientist. And that thing in the cemetery, and...okay, but even so, it wasn't like Marshall hadn't...

"If this is the part where you tell me you've done the mental calculations," Dash interrupted his train of though, "and you're about to point out you've returned the favor a time or two, sure. You have, but not so many times as to break even. And if we're talking lifetime achievement here..."

"Wait, are you telling me you're keeping score?" Marshall asked.

"Nope," said Dash, "because if I was keeping score, I definitely wouldn't tell you. You'd just find a way to twist the rules to your advantage."

"Because I'm just saying that if you are, I don't think any time my life was in danger as a direct result of something you did should count."

At this, Dash looked heavenward and mouthed the word "See?" in the direction of some unknown observer. "Even if we take that into consideration, I'm still ahead. Admit it, you like to take stupid risks. And this paranormal mission we're all on? It's your mission. Simon and I just follow it. Without you, he'd probably be leading a quiet life, collecting stamps, and I'd be—"

"Dead or missing under mysterious circumstances?" Marshall ventured.

Dash moved like he was going to smack Marshall upside the head, but instead swiped ineffectually at the back of Marshall's hair. "I was going to say making a fortune somewhere. Instead, I'm here, all dressed up and playing nice for a family that isn't even mine. Because, I might add, you directly threatened my life if I didn't."

"I threatened to let you deal with Syndi all by yourself if you didn't."

"Same difference."

Marshall shrugged. He had to give Dash that one. "Fine," he said at last. "Whatever you say. I'm the dangerous criminal element in this relationship and you've been my innocent victim this whole time."

Dash actually managed to look wounded. "Here I am, not only wearing uncomfortable shoes and being polite to your family, but doing you the courtesy of being honest with you and you can't even pretend to believe me."

"That's because I don't," said Marshall.

"And this from someone who believes in the Easter Bunny."

"I've met the Easter Bunny," Marshall pointed out. "Or at least a bunny who belonged to a goddess named Easter. I've also met you, and can safely say I'm pretty sure that now you're screwing with me."

"Well, yeah." Dash grinned. "But that didn't start until years later. Though it was also a direct result of the fact you couldn't seem to leave me alone."

Marshall sighed. "Dash, that wasn't what I meant and you know it," His eyes scanned the reception hall until they rested on his parents attempting to slow dance. "Honestly, as fascinating as it would be to hear your interpretation of that part of our relationship, this is neither the time nor the place. Also, I'm not nearly drunk enough yet." 

There was a long pause, as they both took another drink. 

"I will grant you I like to take stupid risks," Marshall conceded, at last. "Please do look in the mirror for Exhibit A."

He turned back toward the dance floor. His parents were still slow dancing, gazing into each other's eyes like the disgustingly sappy lovebirds they still were after all these years. Simon was dancing and talking animatedly with yet another bridesmaid. Syndi and her new husband were still out there, swaying in each other's arms, looking happy yet so exhausted Marshall could easily believe they each were the only thing holding the other upright at this point.

Meanwhile, Marshall was over to side getting drunk with Dash and having one of their weirder arguments. It figured.

"Teller, listen to me," Dash said. "There a few things you don't seem to realize about you."

Marshall raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"

"Such as you're the type of person who runs _toward_ the spooky noise and the screaming. Anything trying to scare you into leaving only makes you want to stay and investigate it. The more forbidden the forbidden knowledge, the more determined you are to read all about it. You do this with very little regard for your own personal safety, or for the safety of anybody you’ve got with you. It was one of the very first things I ever learned about you. And one of the very first things I ever learned about me was that if I stayed near you, eventually, no matter how much I tried to stop myself, while you were running towards certain doom, I was going wind up being one of the people running after you. So that is why I find it hard to believe that _you_ find it hard to believe that you always have and always will terrify me.”

Marshall studied Dash, who met his eyes without blinking. "I'm drunk enough I think I almost understood most of that," Marshall said at last. "Seriously?"

"Um, I've literally followed you into hell," Dash said.

"Okay, yeah, that one time," Marshall agreed. "Though I'm still not sure that was actually hell, and not just a particularly brimstone-y alternate dimension..."

"Does that actually matter here? In the years since I've known you, that wouldn't be the first alternate dimension. I've also followed you into at least one temporal anomaly, three human sacrifice situations, City Hall, the fairy realm, Lake Eerie, the Bureau of Lost, a couple of secret government facilities, something I'm pretty sure was purgatory, that one bar where the Unkind Ones like to hang out, too many haunted structures, graveyards, and creepy basements to even count..."

"Okay, okay," Marshall said. "Fine. I terrify you. But if I let you have something as big as that, you need to give me these two things. One, you have absolutely no idea how much I worry about what happens to you. That's how I wound up in some of those places to begin with, remember? Two, you're not allowed to pretend that this isn't also your family anymore. Ask Mom if you think you get a vote about that. Better yet, ask Syndi. She's been telling everybody here that you're her _other_ other little brother."

"Really?" Dash sounded genuinely surprised.

"Really," Marshall said. "How do you not know this? I had to talk her out of 'practically my brother-in-law' because I didn't need the whole family deciding whether or not they approve. And trust me, you want the disapproval. The approving side would just take it as an excuse to make plans for," here Marshall gestured at the festivities going on around them, "more of this."

"Huh," said Dash. "At least with you, 'til death do us part' would be a short sentence."

"You don't know that," said Marshall. "Hypothetically, I could wind up living a really long time, and then you'd be stuck with me."

Dash shook his head. "I'm already stuck with you. And who’s to say I'd wind up with something other than a short life, even if you did? Anyway, I'm not making vows. With our luck, they'd wind up being mystically enforceable in some way we'd only find out about after the fact. So, do you want to dance or what?"

"Uh, what now?" asked Marshall, thrown by the sudden change of subject.

"Dance. You keep looking toward the dance floor like you want to be out there. Also, your sister's noticed us now, and keeps making faces and 'come here' hand gestures."

Marshall looked at Syndi, who was indeed doing just that. "I thought you didn't want or know how to dance."

"I don't," said Dash. "But this is a slow song. All you have to do for those is sway vaguely in time to the music, right? I mean, you're going to owe me forever for this, but you pretty much already do, so why not?"

Marshall considered. "Oh, what the hell," he said, standing up and holding out a hand. 

"It can't be any worse than maybe-literal hell, right?" Dash said, taking Marshall's hand and allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.

"I don't know," Marshall said, as they took the floor. "If hell gossiped about us for years after the fact, we didn't have to hear about it. I make no such guarantee with the extended Teller family."

"Still, it's got to at least be better than the temporal anomaly."

"That's only because anything is better than the temporal anomaly," Marshall said, and shuddered.

"Anything? Because the temporal anomaly at least had Orange Julius," said Dash.

"Yeah, you only say that because you weren't there for as long as I was. The only thing I'm willing to grant you was maybe possibly worse than the temporal anomaly was TV-verse Eerie."

"See, and here I thought we were going to get through one entire day without you bringing that up..."

Which was how Marshall Teller found himself at sister's wedding, surrounded by family, dancing with Dash in public for the very first and very last time, while simultaneously having one of their weirder arguments.


End file.
